Emotionally Impeded Displays of Admiration
by Queen of the Castle
Summary: Five times the Master supposedly tried to kill Rose Tyler, and one time he really didn't, not even slightly, thank you very much. Mainly Ten/Rose, but also every combination of Ten/Rose/Simm!Master.
1. Emotionally Impeded DisplaysofAdmiration

Author's Notes: Contains mild BDSM references. This fic is set post-Season 3, having gone AU during Doomsday. Rose + Torchwood + lever =/= parallel universe angst. This also has implications in LotTL that will become quickly apparent.

* * *

**1.**

As the last Time Lord in existence (or, rather, _one_ of the last Time Lords; even after a year, he was still getting used to that), the Doctor would be the first to call himself a complete genius. He understood what he considered to be a respectable percentage of the sum of knowledge in the universe. Not much was beyond him, whatever the _other _remaining Time Lord might have to say to the contrary.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't quite comprehend how he, the Master and Rose Tyler were going to coexist on the TARDIS without the whole of time and space imploding ten times over.

He hadn't really thought about the logistics of it when he'd decided the Master would have to stay in the TARDIS. There hadn't really been any other options, so what would have been the point of over-thinking it? The reality of the situation only really dawned once he'd found himself fixing the mess the Master had made butchering the console room to turn his ship into a paradox machine.

The Master was slouched against the far wall, giving a running commentary on how inept the Doctor's repair efforts were. Rose, in turn, was defending the Doctor's intelligence vehemently enough that the Doctor was a little worried the two of them might actually come to physical blows. If they did, the Doctor would put his money – if he actually had any, that was – on Rose, since he had a sneaking suspicion that slapping might be hereditary. Still, even though no violence actually broke out (_this _time, he couldn't help but think with a sense of impending dread), the Doctor began to realise precisely what he'd signed himself up for.

It probably wasn't a sign of good things to come when he found himself thinking that having the Titanic break its way through the TARDIS exterior was pretty much the perfect distraction.

"If you're going to leave the TARDIS shields down like a particularly dim-witted five year old, couldn't you at least have the decency to run into something hard enough to get yourself killed?" the Master asked, sounding supremely bored despite having been showered just moments earlier with bits of the colliding ships.

The Doctor merely rolled his eyes and had the TARDIS help him lock the Master away safely while he and Rose went out to explore. Or, well, to find some trouble to get themselves into, really; it wasn't as if they didn't know what was coming from the moment they saw the word 'Titanic'.

The TARDIS seemed to draw great joy from slamming the door of the Master's makeshift prison cell shut with an extra loud clang. The Doctor could hear the Master's grumbling from all the way back in the console room. Even more clearly, he heard the Master complain loudly as the TARDIS apparently mildly electrocuted him.

The Doctor, rather than scolding her, stroked the nearest bit of coral, barely stifling his smile.

They were all going to kill each other, no doubt about it. The Doctor thought that if the Master didn't manage to blow the TARDIS up out of spite, or set the Doctor and Rose up to be killed somehow, the TARDIS might just dump the lot of them off in the middle of a volcano. Even if none of that happened, he thought that Rose might still decide to throttle him for the not-so-brilliant idea of bringing the Master on board in the first place.

He thought he'd probably deserve it, but it would still be a shame. He didn't want to die. Everything else aside, he really liked this hair. Not to mention the teeth.

There really was no other option, though. He had to keep the Master with him to prevent the universe from being torn apart. And he had to keep Rose with him, otherwise he feared that _he _might fall apart.

Thankfully, no matter how Rose had eyed the TARDIS door as if she was considering whether she had the upper-body strength necessary to throw the Master out into the Vortex mid-flight, she did seem to understand that it was necessary, at least enough that she hadn't tried to argue against the Doctor bringing him with them.

For the Master's part, the Doctor didn't really care what he thought about it. After everything he'd done, he didn't get a choice.

After the Titanic rather predictably sank (sort of), the Doctor and Rose headed back to the TARDIS. Even with their joined hands swinging between them in a way that any outsider would undoubtedly describe as 'jovial', neither of them was quite able muster a smile as open as they might have shared prior to spending an entire Earth year watching half a planet be destroyed, and then immediately witnessing most of the occupants of the Titanic be thoughtlessly slaughtered, all for the sake of nothing more than power and greed.

The Doctor found that he missed Rose's outright grin. Perhaps it was his focus on the lack of it that caused him to not see the crossbow bolt that greeted him upon opening the TARDIS door. The stabbing pain and the sudden shortness of breath drew his attention quickly enough, though.

It was just as well that a punctured lung wasn't enough to really slow him down immediately. He couldn't even think of going straight to the infirmary to patch himself up, because he had to deal with the Master and dismantle the trap first (and where in the universe had the Master picked up a crossbow, anyway?). Since locking him in a room clearly hadn't worked, the Doctor had to secure the Master to one of the coral struts in the console room using a particularly complicated (and probably somewhat circulation-inhibiting) knot system. This wouldn't have been a problem, despite the way the Doctor's vision blurred and flecks of blood occasionally foamed at the Doctor's lips as he exhaled. However, he also had to put up with the Master's seemingly endless stream of suggestive comments about bondage. Rose turned bright red and the Doctor's fingers fumbled on the rope, subsequently making tying the knots take nearly twice as long as it should have.

Considering the attempt on his life, and with all of the loss of the last year still so fresh in his mind, the Doctor really wasn't in the mood for any of it. He supposed that might have explained why he was completely unapologetic when he yanked the rope too hard, prompting a pained grunt from the Master.

Once he was satisfied that the Master, no matter how slippery he seemed to be, wasn't going anywhere for the next few hours at least, the Doctor set off towards the infirmary. Rose looped an arm around his waist and helped him walk. He thought about telling her that if he could manage to spend ten minutes barely swaying on his feet while he'd strapped the Master in place, he could probably manage to stumble across the couple of hundred feet to the infirmary on his own. Then the tips of her fingers stroked his ribcage in a way that made the pain seem slightly less consequential. That certainly wiped all thought of protesting against her touch clear out of his mind.

Later, when he woke splayed across the infirmary cot, his chest still aching but long since healed over, he found that he wasn't any more inclined to protest against the way Rose had settled onto the tiny bed beside him. Her head rested on his chest just a couple of inches above the bandage he'd applied earlier, as if monitoring the beat of his left heart.

If the crossbow had hit just a few inches higher it would have likely injured that heart beyond repair, and he'd have had to regenerate. Or, he realised with sudden horror, the same would have happened if he'd been a few inches shorter as well. Say, Rose's height.

The Master was even more of a mathematical genius than the Doctor himself. There was no way he'd make a miscalculation like that. Not about predictable things like angle and thrust and the like, anyway. The only thing he'd been wrong about was the human (and Time Lord) element, as was so often his problem.

The Doctor smoothed Rose's hair repeatedly, almost compulsively, though he was careful not to apply enough force to wake her. He wanted to watch her sleeping, and safe, for at least a little longer.

He thought that he might bring this up the next time some woman got upset that the Doctor didn't really practice chivalry, with all the paying for meals and 'ladies first' and such that humans seemed to get hung up on. He was going through every single door they came across first from now on, thank you.

Then again, he realised, looking down at Rose's face, her slumber making her appear even more vulnerable than she usually was, maybe it would be better if he never brought it up. Maybe he just wanted to forget how close he came to losing her. Again.

* * *

**2.**

"It was your choice to let me out of the TARDIS," the Master taunted, "so technically whatever happens to her is your fault."

"I couldn't exactly leave you in there alone after the last time, could I?" the Doctor growled angrily, his eyes darting around anxiously looking for a clue.

"She's long gone, you know. Low-life primitives. They've probably got her roasting on a spit as we speak. Do you think she'll taste good? I suppose you wouldn't know, being an insufferable prude and all."

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

The Master laughed. "Most of us can listen and think at the same time."

"No one," the Doctor stressed, "could possibly listen to _you _and think of anything other than how much they'd like to strangle you."

"So do it, then. I got your girlfriend captured and quite possibly – hopefully – killed. If that isn't worth regenerating me, I don't know what is."

The Doctor shook his head. "You haven't got Rose killed. Rose has been in far worse situations than this and been just fine."

"You keep telling yourself that," the Master said. "I'll laugh while you cry at her funeral."

The Doctor, it turned out, was actually the one who had the last laugh. Or rather, Rose was. Somehow, while the Doctor had been dragging the Master all over the jungle looking for her, Rose had managed to convince the locals that she wasn't an offering, or dinner, or whatever else they'd seemingly had planned for her. When the two of them stumbled into a clearing loudly and obviously enough to draw the attention of the whole crowd of natives – who all turned to the Doctor and the Master and looked as though they were carefully considering just which part of a Time Lord's body would prove to be the greatest delicacy – it was Rose who saved their hides.

Rose, from high up on her makeshift throne, ordered the natives to let the Doctor go. She jokingly told them that they could still eat the Master if they liked, and then had to stop them from actually doing so when the fine art of sarcasm apparently proved to be over their heads.

"You made them believe you were their queen?" the Doctor whispered when Rose had descended down his side.

"A god, actually," Rose said.

"Resourceful," the Master commented.

Rose smiled. "I like to think so."

It was her resourcefulness, in the end, that allowed them to at least get something of a head start before the natives gave chase upon realising the two intruders were 'stealing' their new god.

Even the Master seemed to concede that running for their lives might be a good idea.

* * *

**3.**

After Rose had casually pointed out that the Master had been mucking around with the purely-for-display phone on the outside of the TARDIS, the Doctor found himself stranded on board the ship for the next several hours. It was taking him longer than he would like to admit to dismantle the bomb that the Master had somehow (in the grand total of twenty seconds in which the Doctor had lost sight of him) made simply by tweaking the existing phone components.

That wouldn't have been so bad, probably. The Doctor _did _like tinkering with things, after all. And the bomb was frankly ingenious if one could put aside the psychopathy of making such a thing just for kicks. However, it also meant that the Master was stuck in the console room with him. For hours on end. With Rose hanging about as well.

The Master was even worse than the Doctor himself at sitting still for long.

Rose, not looking up, slapped the Master's reaching hand away from her face as if it was barely more irritating than a passing insect. The Doctor glared at him from across the console. The Master seemed to enjoy both reactions equally, grinning at them both.

"You should bleach your hair again," the Master said to Rose for what seemed to the Doctor to be about the twentieth time since he'd initially dragged the other Time Lord onto the TARDIS. The Master seemed to be suspiciously fixated on Rose's appearance. "People need to be warned about your intelligence levels on sight, I think," he added cruelly.

"Your wife was a _natural _blonde, wasn't she?" Rose shot back, not even looking up from her magazine. "Wouldn't anyone smarter have you?"

"I don't know," the Master said, sounding contemplative. "Would you say that the Doctor is more intelligent than Lucy? I have my doubts, personally. He's a disgrace to the legacy of our race."

The Doctor shot the Master a warning look. It took Rose a second to get the implication, which was just about long enough for the Doctor to wipe the guilty look off his face.

"You mean... you..." Rose sounded like she was entreating him to contradict her.

The Doctor was a brilliant liar, of course (or so he liked to believe). Somehow, though, he couldn't often seem to effectively apply those skills when it came to her.

"Of course not," he said unconvincingly.

Rose looked stunned. The Master, the Doctor noticed, looked as if this was the best thing that had happened to him since being brought onto the TARDIS against his will.

"Once more with feeling," the Master goaded.

"Shut up," the Doctor muttered.

"Don't worry," the Master said to Rose. "It's nothing personal that he's been with me but not you. What can I say? He just prefers good looks. Ever since that year – you know, the one where I killed off most of your species and owned the rest of it – you've really let yourself go. I mean, brownish-ginger hair? Really? Still, I'm sure that given time, you might get up to his standard. Oh, but wait, humans don't really _have _time, do you? Your lives are just the blink of an eye to us."

"Shut up," the Doctor ordered, sounding much more forceful this time.

"Hit a nerve?" the Master jeered.

Rose shook her head. "I've just gotta go do... you know, that thing," she said.

The Master bared his teeth at the Doctor in a predatory smile as soon as she was out of the room. "They're a fragile lot. I can't wait to shatter her."

The Doctor locked the Master in the most secure room he could find for the rest of the day, and the two days after that. He sat outside the room's single exit point the whole time, even sending Rose away when she tried to bring him tea. It wasn't that he didn't want her company. He _always_ did, no matter how much he might try to push her away sometimes. It was just... having her in the same vicinity as the Master, who would ostensibly live as long as the Doctor would (or perhaps even longer, if the universe was _extremely_ unlucky), reminded him how very short her expected life span was. Especially since the Master kept trying to make that span even shorter still. And _especially _after the Master purposely gouged his finger into that particular open wound and made the ache of it feel even worse.

Barely an hour after the Doctor had finally let the Master out, shoving him directly into the bathroom, the Master flung the bathroom door open and swept past the Doctor before he could even ask what in Rassilon's name the other man was wearing on his head. The Doctor followed closely behind, keeping the Master in his direct line of sight at all times.

The Master was never that quiet when he was obviously annoyed, even when he was plotting. The Doctor didn't think it boded well.

When Rose appeared in the console room, she looked much happier than she had in days. She snatched the thing (a beanie, the Doctor was fairly certain) off the Master's head before he even noticed that she was behind him. His hair, which was a very different colour than the last time the Doctor had seen it, stuck up in a less than flattering way.

Rose bit her knuckle to stifle her laughter. "I know you said he likes blondes best," she said, "but me? I'd call that more sort of grey."

The Master rolled his eyes at her.

"Also?" Rose added. "Your roots are showin'."

Oddly, the Master still didn't say a word, not even to complain. The Doctor decided that, based on that evidence, the universe was obviously ending.

Rose looked over at the Doctor. "Oh, and we're out of lemonade," she said pointedly. "I knocked the rest of the last bottle over a few days ago. Funny how every single drop made its way into this random bottle of shampoo that was lyin' around. And straight after someone had gone to the trouble of addin' a bottle of peroxide to it too! Such a shame."

She left again, a smile itching to break out across her face. The Master watched her, looking more sort of speculative than angry by then.

The Doctor glared at the Master, who merely gave him an insolent sort of smile once he looked away from Rose's retreating form long enough to notice the Doctor's ire.

"What?" he asked. "I figured it would be fitting. I know it's not the most effective poison, but I had to work with what was available, didn't I? The only time you let me out of your sight is in the bathroom."

"Do I have to keep an eye on you in there as well, then?" the Doctor asked.

The Master quirked an eyebrow. "If you're hoping to take this whole jailor-prisoner fantasy of yours in a different direction, all you have to do is say so."

"All right," the Doctor said. "How about this direction? You try to hurt Rose again, I'll make you wish I'd let one of those people on the _Valiant _run you through the rest of your regenerations."

The Master sneered. "Like you could, you bleeding heart."

They squared off for long enough that the Master must have seen something in the Doctor's eyes that convinced him, because he broke eye contact and muttered something inaudible even to the Doctor's sensitive hearing as he threw himself down petulantly into the pilot's chair beside the console.

Just as well. There were a lot of things the Doctor was willing to put up with in order to keep the Master with him. On the other hand, there was almost _nothing _he wouldn't do to keep Rose safe. He'd long since admitted that, at least to himself. He was glad that the Master appeared to know it as well. They'd all likely live a lot longer if they were clear about that one important thing.

* * *

**4.**

"Do you have anythin' that detects poisons?" Rose asked, seemingly out of the blue. "I mean, like, _all _poisons," she continued. "Anythin' that you could, say, put into food or drinks that could be deadly to humans."

The Doctor might have expected a question like this straight after the bleach incident, but it had been several days since then. "Has he threatened you?" he asked.

"Nah," Rose said blithely. "But then, he never really threatened me all the other times, either, did he? Just thought it'd be a good idea to be prepared."

The Doctor frowned. "_How _many times, exactly?" he asked.

Rose shrugged. "Don't even worry about it. So, you got a poison detector sittin' around in storage, or what?"

"Something like that might come in handy," the Doctor admitted, concerned.

Rose, on the other hand, really didn't seem all that troubled. "Yeah. I mean, don't worry about it if it's not too much effort or anythin'. I'm probably just bein' paranoid, you know?"

Humans had a nice little saying about it not being paranoia if someone was actually out to get you. The Doctor would be the first to admit that humans could be intelligent. Some of them, anyway. Sometimes. Maybe.

He found, after much sorting through the 'P' section of his much bigger on the inside storage compartments under the TARDIS console, that he didn't have anything like what Rose wanted on hand after all. Unless he'd sorted it under another letter and then forgotten about it, obviously, but in that case he'd never find it. That certainly didn't stop him from building the device in question for her, though. Not once he'd stopped off at an intergalactic marketplace in the 94th century for some of the necessary parts. The Doctor didn't tell Rose that. It wasn't a _lie_ that he'd been picking up TARDIS parts, exactly; he'd also picked up a flux capacitator, and if asked he'd _swear _that he'd actually desperately needed one... for the heating system in the disused hallway three rights, a curving left and two more rights from the Wardrobe Room. Someone might actually need to use that hallway sometime in the next few centuries or so, after all.

Even before he'd finally the device and pressed it into her hands, the Doctor noticed that Rose had taken to constantly wearing a jacket he recognised from the Wardrobe Room. It was one of the few he'd ever bothered to make with pockets that were bigger on the inside. Considering he'd caught a glance of a pair of handcuffs in one pocket (he thought he might give away a whole regeneration to know exactly what she had _those _for), the Doctor suspected the poison detector was only one of many odd things that she ended up carrying with her at all times. Still, the Doctor supposed he could hardly talk. He still hadn't found that family of mice he'd had to stow away in his right jacket pocket that one time, after all.

One day Rose strolled into the console room and asked to be taken out for chips.

"Weren't you baking just a few minutes ago?" the Doctor remarked, already throwing the TARDIS into motion.

"Well, turns out that the food at the moment isn't especially... edible."

The way she said it sent alarm bells ringing in the back of the Doctor's brain. "All right," he said, drawing the words out uncertainly. "Chips. Sure."

When the TARDIS landed, Rose stepped outside first, leaving the Doctor alone to glare at the Master.

"Did you try to poison Rose? _Again_?" he asked the Master darkly.

The Master shrugged. "She looked a little peaky. Thought she could use some Zeroxytonecin to boost her immune system."

The Doctor clenched his hand into a nearly painfully tight fist. "It's fatal to humans. The effects are drawn-out, painful and incurable, and you know it."

A hint of amusement lurked behind the Master's mildly appalled expression. "_Is_ it? My, that could have been _tragic_. You really would think I'd have learned more about humans after having to live on their stinking cesspool of a planet for a few years, wouldn't you?"

The Doctor felt himself growing angrier with every moment that the Master continued to speak. Or breathe, for that matter. No matter how imperative it was that he keep the Master with him, _no one _threatened Rose.

The Master snorted. "Oh, come on. She was making cutesy little biscuits shaped like _bunnies_, of all things. Personally, I think she was trying to send you a message about copulating frantically like those disgusting little animals. Could you really expect me to resist doing something about _that_?

"If Rose hadn't thought to ask for a device to check for poisons, she'd have died," the Doctor fumed. "In which case, you'd have quickly followed her."

The Master didn't seem at all worried by the threat. "Is that how she knew?" he asked. "Clever little minx."

The Doctor, who'd been entertaining visions of flying the Master off to find a Grunx the Doctor could feed him to (he'd love to see him try to get out of _that _maze of slow-digesting organs any time in the next century), stopped in his tracks.

"You're impressed," he said, shocked.

The Master sneered. "I'm impressed when the Yerovaxi stand on their hind legs as well," he fobbed the Doctor off.

"No," the Doctor said. "You're really, properly _impressed _by Rose. I can't believe I didn't see it before."

The Master scoffed. "I'm just interested enough to want to dissect her, nothing more," he said, but the Doctor didn't buy it for a second.

"Try it and I'll –"

"I already have," the Master admitted, looking gleeful. "I nearly got stabbed for my troubles, as well. Interesting how your supposedly peaceful little humans are all so happy to carry weapons about."

Interesting. That was one word for it, the Doctor thought. Usually he'd have protested, but if it had saved Rose's life...

"Leave her alone," the Doctor said. "I'm the one you want to take it out on."

The Master looked at him like he was being especially stupid. "Have some imagination! Even if the universe did revolve around you and that was my motivation, killing her would be a much better way to rip your already bleeding hearts right out of your chest than just killing you until you ran out of regenerations. Still, that's not it anyway. She had control of the whole universe and killed off half a million Daleks with a wave of her hand. As much as I think the good Captain is about the most disgusting brand of freak I've ever encountered, she also did _that_. All of that power, and it didn't kill her. Of course I want to cut into her and study her insides."

"You're insane."

The Master nodded theatrically, looking like one of those odd bobble-headed dolls that inexplicably remained popular throughout the universe for millennia. "Give the man a prize! It's taken you this long to figure that out?"

"Stay here," the Doctor ordered, ignoring him.

"Would you like me to lick your boots as well? Or maybe you'd like me to call _you _'Master'?" the Master asked, following with a nearly impossibly deep bow of mock obedience.

The Doctor just glared, shutting the TARDIS door behind him so he could have just a little bit of privacy with Rose (from the Master, at least, if not from the other people on the street around them). Getting away from the Master just for a few minutes would be worth whatever repair work or dismantling of traps the Doctor would have to do as a result of leaving him alone. As long as the Master was on that side of the door and Rose was on this side, the Doctor wasn't really too worried.

Thankfully, Rose hadn't wandered too far away. The Doctor held out both hands, sighing as hers slotted into his grasp a few seconds later. Her pulse under his fingertips felt nowhere near as frantic as his own heartsbeat at the thought of how close he'd come _yet again _to losing her because of his own stupidity.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," Rose said, sounding for all the universe as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

What had he done to her, that running the risk of losing her life on a daily basis, even in a place that should have been safe – that she should have been able to call 'home' – was considered _normal_?

"I'll find a way to get rid of him," the Doctor promised, "Well, maybe lock him up, actually. Or, well... I'll do something, anyway. I'll keep him away from you."

Rose shook her head. "You know it's not that easy. Anyways, it's a small price to pay."

"For what?" the Doctor asked.

"For stayin' with you," Rose said. "Don't look at me like that. I know you've been thinkin' it. You can't exactly leave him behind – he'd take over half the universe before any of us could blink, probably – so the only other option is leavin' _me_ behind instead. It's nice that you want to protect me and all, but I don't need _that _kind of help. You don't get to drop me somewhere for my own good. Not again. I don't even have anywhere to go this time, anyways."

The Doctor thought to himself that being back on Earth even without her mother, or Mickey, or even the ability to exist under her current identity (for she'd long since been labelled dead after Canary Wharf), would be better than being killed by a mad Time Lord. By _either_ mad Time Lord, at that. The Doctor thought he was just as likely to put her in danger as the Master, really, regardless of the fact that he didn't exactly _try _to do so.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but Rose silenced him before he could even start.

"No," she said decisively. "Unless you can honestly tell me that even if the Master wasn't around you wouldn't want me on the TARDIS anymore, I'm stayin' with you. End of story."

The Doctor nodded regretfully, defeated.

When had he let it become her decision? If there was one thing he might have liked to go back and change in his own timeline if it wouldn't mean the destruction of universes, it was that. Things had been so much easier when his word had been law on the TARDIS. At least, he thought it had been. He could hardly remember a time when she wasn't mucking around with all of his best plans and intentions and replacing them with something he didn't even know he wanted. He didn't _want _to remember a time like that, when it came right down to it.

"Go on," she said. "Go track down your evil twin before he blows somethin' up. I'm not afraid of bein' near him. Actually, the nearer the better; he's less likely to be able to try anythin' when he's right where we both can see him."

The Doctor was very careful to be the first one through the TARDIS door, keeping the Master in plain sight. A quick scan with the sonic screwdriver detected some rudimentary pulley system rigged up on the roof of the kitchen, which he dismantled without stopping to figure out what the heck it was supposed to do; he didn't think he really wanted to know. He vowed to check out the rest of the TARDIS properly before letting Rose anywhere near the inside of it again. The Master's disappointed look at how quickly the Doctor found his trap was a little too pronounced to be anything other than a ruse to draw attention from the fact that there were still other surprises stashed away somewhere.

"You're just _asking _to get more closely acquainted with the air lock," the Doctor warned.

"Every time you threaten me and don't follow through," the Master said, "you seem even _more_ pathetically ineffective. You might want to watch that. Besides, you don't _have _an air lock on this thing. Believe me, I checked."

"I'll create one," the Doctor said. "The TARDIS will be happy enough at the idea of being rid of you to oblige, I'm sure."

The Master merely laughed.

The Doctor tried not to let it get to him.

* * *

**5.**

The Doctor lost track of the Master for all of one minute. That, however, was one minute too long for his liking. He couldn't afford stupid mistakes like that when Rose's safety was on the line.

He found the Master – of all things – handcuffed to a stray pipe in the hallway outside Rose's room.

They silently regarded each other for a moment.

"Huh," the Doctor said. "So that's what the handcuffs are for."

The Master smirked. "You saw them in her pocket too, did you? I would have thought they were for making you her bitch during your kinky sexcapades, except it's clearly been _far _too long since you got any for that to be the case."

The Doctor ignored him. "What exactly did you do to get yourself locked up?"

The Master looked away. "She'll tell you if she wants to. Otherwise, I think that'll just be our little secret."

The Doctor sighed. "Since when did trying to kill people become the new form of flirting?"

"If it was," the Master said, "then I'd say it was pretty successful. I got your girlfriend to engage in some hands-on bondage with me. It's more than you can claim, I think."

The Doctor said under his breath, "I get tied up with her all the time." Apparently the Master's hearing was even better than he'd thought, because he gave the Doctor a mildly impressed look. The Doctor shook his head in frustration, then eyed the handcuffs more closely, sceptical. "You can break out of the most secure room in the TARDIS without blinking an eye, but you can't get out of a pair of cheap handcuffs?"

"The difference is that I _like _the handcuffs," the Master said. "Want to take advantage of me while I'm helpless?"

"You're never helpless."

The Master narrowed his eyes, looking suddenly more serious than the Doctor had seen him in a very long time. "No," he agreed. "I'm not. I think I've proved quite nicely that you can't watch me all of the time. Eventually you slip up and I slip away, always. So maybe you should think more closely about how you treat me when you _do _have me in your sights, hmm?"

A couple of coordinated jerks of the Master's wrists and he was handing the now-detached cuffs to the Doctor. "You should tell her how much _you _like to be tied up," he said. "At least then the cuffs might be put to some proper use after all."

The Doctor flushed red, but he followed the Master down the hall anyway. As much as he'd like nothing more than to be as far away from the Master as possible right then, he really would prefer not to let him out of his sight again so soon.

After all, the next time he and Rose had a run-in, the Master might not be in such a good mood.

* * *

**6.**

The Doctor knew what it was like to have his mind racing, putting together up to twenty-seven different trains of thought to create a single unquantifiably complex conclusion. Now, he also knew what it was like for his mind to go absolutely, horrifyingly _blank_. Paralysed. Useless.

She wasn't breathing. All of those times he'd worried about Rose dying, whether it was right at that very minute or in fifty years time, and now that the time had suddenly arrived the Doctor didn't know what to do, or even what to feel.

"For the love of –"

The Master's voice interrupted the Doctor's horrified inaction as he stared at Rose through a cloud of smoke, his respiratory bypass having kicked in without him noticing. The Master swept into Rose's bedroom and hoisted her off the bed onto the floor, where the smoke was thinner.

The Doctor had no idea that the Master knew how to perform CPR on a human. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. The Master had, after all, recently spent several years as a politician on 21st century Earth. He'd probably picked up all sorts of things that neither of them would have ever expected him to be bothered with.

As the Master breathed into Rose's mouth, the Doctor just stood by the door, watching, helpless.

How long had the fire been going? How long since Rose had last breathed on her own? Was there even the slightest chance...

Rose. Oh Rassilon. _Rose_.

"Fuck," the Master said after the last compression. He pulled Rose – Rose's _body _– off the floor and into what 21st century humans would call a fireman's hold. He shoved the Doctor out of the way as he hurled himself down the hall. Towards the infirmary, the very small part of the Doctor's uselessly large brain that was still working realised. As if moving of their own volition, his feet propelled the Doctor after the two of them.

He had to see. Whatever happened, he had to see it for himself.

"Come on you stubborn... little... _bitch_," the Master was panting as the Doctor stumbled in. To the Doctor himself, the Master accused, "You call this an infirmary? Nothing in here is _useful_."

Apparently, though, a simple set of 26th century defibrillators were actually enough to do the trick, given a couple of bursts. Rose's breathing was even more laboured than the Master's once it restarted, but the sight of the autonomous rise and fall of her chest was still just about enough to make the Doctor literally collapse with relief. He gripped the doorway of the infirmary for support.

"And you," the Master said, rounding on him. "You're even more useless than this ridiculous room on your scrap yard ship. What were you trying to do, _wish _her back to life from across the room?"

The Doctor privately agreed. He'd been completely frozen by the sight of his worst nightmare (other than, of course, himself) playing out right in front of his eyes. However, he wasn't about to admit that to the Master, of all people. And the best defence was a good offence.

"Me?" the Doctor asked. "You've been trying to kill her for weeks. What, did you have a sudden attack of conscience after you _lit _the fire."

"I don't have a conscience," the Master spat. The Doctor couldn't agree more, and would gladly confess to it this time. He was _done _trying to pretend that the Master felt anything like guilt or remorse.

"But don't even think of blaming me for _this_. Your TARDIS malfunctioned all on its own," the Master continued. "That's what happens when you hold the whole thing together with chewing gum and a bit of twine. I had nothing to do with it."

"This time, maybe," the Doctor said.

The Master glared at him. "Those other times? Just foreplay, nothing more. If you'd care to recall, it took me only an hour to have a tenth of her whole species killed, with just a few words and time to spare. You really think that if I legitimately wanted her dead she'd still be breathing?"

It was a fair enough question, the Doctor thought. The Master could have killed Rose a thousand times over. They each were well aware of that, underneath the contrived facade that bringing the Master on board the TARDIS wasn't the most dangerous thing the Doctor had done in the history of _ever_, which was really saying something. He certainly didn't need to actively keep her alive. Well, bring her back to life, the Doctor reminded himself, feeling sick at the lingering thought of her lying there _not breathing_.

Perhaps Rose had never seemed all that worried by the Master's attempts to kill her precisely because she'd figured out the truth of it long ago; life was little more than a game to the Master, and as long as he found the players interesting he'd want to keep them around, despite any appearances to the contrary.

"Keep an eye on her, if you think you can manage that. And if she stops breathing again, you might want to actually _do _something about it this time," the Master said, sweeping angrily out of the room.

Ah, the Doctor thought, _guilt_. Unlike the Master, that was an emotion he was well acquainted with, even without the Master's help in driving him deeper into it.

The Doctor sat himself down on a remarkably uncomfortable stool beside the cot Rose was lying on. He waited. And waited.

Oxygen deprivation had far-reaching consequences in humans, he couldn't help but think hours later when he was still waiting for her to wake up. He shoved the thought violently away. She hadn't been out long before the Master got there. She just _hadn't_. She couldn't have been.

Except actually the Doctor had no idea how long that fire had been filling her room with smoke.

If she didn't wake up, alive and whole...

He waited still longer. There was little else to be done, after all.

* * *

When Rose's eyes opened, the Doctor really couldn't help himself. Oxygen deprivation or not, he pulled the oxygen mask away from her face and his lips found hers as if on autopilot.

She certainly didn't seem to mind, all things told.

"Hey," she greeted weakly when the Doctor pulled away to look at her, then coughed.

"Hi," he greeted in return. He started chuckling, which devolved into somewhat hysterical laughter.

"Um..." Rose said, looking at him like he'd gone insane. Perhaps he had, at that. Regardless, her expression just made him laugh even harder. "Am I missin' some joke?" Rose asked. "'Cause this really isn't exactly my favourite ever reaction to my kissin' abilities."

"No," the Doctor wheezed between laughing. "I'm just... relieved."

"Relieved?" Rose asked. "That's not exactly my favourite reaction either. Oh!" Rose suddenly exclaimed, diverted her gaze from the Doctor long enough to look around. "Would you look at that. How'd we get to the infirmary?" Her eyes narrowed. "Did I get hurt? I don't remember gettin' hurt."

"You, well... You kindasortadied," the Doctor said.

"Oh. That's... different." Rose, apparently, was fluent enough in hysterical-Doctor-speak to understand his words. Who knew? The Doctor thought that particular skill might come in handy in future. Thank Rassilon there actually was a future for her, and therefore for him as well.

"Yeah," the Doctor said, forcing himself to calm down enough to speak coherently. "Let's keep it that way. Different, I mean. I don't want this to be a regular thing, all right?"

"Yeah," Rose breathed. "How..."

"There was a fire," the Doctor replied. "I don't know how it started. I thought maybe the Master –"

Rose snorted. "Yeah right," she said. "He's a control freak. He wouldn't start somethin' wild like a fire, I reckon. Besides, I've been in enough life-or-death situations in the last few years to recognise them. The Master hasn't made any real attempt to kill me since we took him off the _Valiant_."

"So he says, too," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "He saved you, you know. I was just standing there. I didn't... I couldn't..."

Rose reached up towards his face, but didn't quite have the strength for her hand to make it that high. The Doctor grabbed her hand instead, gripping it firmly in his own.

"Yeah, well, who was it who brought him on board?" Rose asked. "So it was still you who saved me, right?"

The Doctor hadn't really thought about it that way. "Think we should maybe keep him around after all?" he asked.

"Oh please no," the Master said from the doorway. "The sexual frustration in this ship is going to kill someone far more effectively than my efforts to cure my boredom via half-hearted assassination attempts. I'd rather the eventual fatality not be _me_. Honestly, drop me off on the nearest uninhabited moon. I'll wait for the respiratory bypass to falter and then asphyxiate, if it's all the same to you."

Rose laughed, though in her weakened state (the Doctor imagined her chest must hurt quite a lot, at the very least) it was more like short puffs of expelled air than the laughter he usually enjoyed hearing so much.

He found that he still liked the sound of it.

"Yeah," Rose said to the Doctor. "I think we'll keep him."

The thump from behind the Doctor sounded suspiciously like the Master's head banging against the doorframe. The Doctor and Rose shared a conspiratorial smile.


	2. Reluctant Rescue Missions

Author's Notes: Gen snippet set sometime not long after the intial EIDoA fic.

* * *

"That was a close call," the Doctor remarked. For once, he actually seemed like he might be _slightly_ winded.

This, of course, meant that Rose was doubled over and panting heavily, like any _normal_ person should be after sprinting for five straight miles over uneven terrain.

"Probably best to double back to the TARDIS before they can catch our scent again. Er, figuratively speaking, obviously," the Doctor added when Rose, still wiping sweat from her forehead, glared at him.

"Aren't you forgettin' somethin', though?" Rose asked breathlessly.

The Doctor frowned and patted at his jacket pocket. "TARDIS key, sonic screwdriver, psychic paper, electronic gorilla, duct tape, police helmet, four – no, sorry, five – different types of shoelaces, and... what's this? Oh, my croquet mallet! I wondered where that disappeared to. Nope, looks like I'm set."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Doctor," she admonished.

"Oh, come on, do we really have to go save him?" the Doctor whined. "Couldn't we just leave him there to stew for a while? Or, well actually, maybe forever? You know he'd do the same to us. And it's really about time someone tied _him_ to a tree and threatened him. He can always regenerate, if it comes to that. It'd be nice not to have to see that same I-bet-you-can't-guess-what-evil-thing-I-just-did grin of his anymore."

Rose had to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, well, I know that all sounds kind of appealin', but think of it this way: they might've tried to kill us, but do those poor villagers _really_ deserve to be subjected to the Master for the rest of his remaining lives? Or even for the next day or so before they get around to makin' him into a slightly-too-bitter soup? It wouldn't be fair to them."

The Doctor protested, "I risk my life every day just by keeping him around. Now I have to risk it to make _sure_ the Master's company will continue to be forced on me? Where's the justice here?"

"Should've probably chosen some less jeopardy-friendly companions if you didn't want to have to swoop in and save us every now and then," Rose suggested.

"The difference is that when _you_ get yourself into this kind of trouble, I actually _like_ you well enough to justify the bother of getting you back."

"Right," Rose said doubtfully. "And you don't like the Master even a _little_ bit, is that it?"

"Rose..."

Rose merely smiled and silently waited for the inevitable.

"Oh, all right, fine," the Doctor conceded grudgingly. "As long as you'll let me gag the ungrateful idiot when he starts complaining about the quality of our rescue."

Rose shrugged. "Well yeah. There's a _good reason_ why you always carry duct tape."


	3. The Not Quite Safe Mode

Author's Notes: A short fic written for a prompt at the Then There's Us Ficathon on LJ. Set a little ways after Emotionally Impeded Displays of Admiration. There will be a further sequel posted sometime later this month.

* * *

Rose was taking a nap in the corner on a large, fluorescent pink cushion that the TARDIS had pulled from Lord knew where (quite possibly Rose's own bedroom, knowing her tastes) so she didn't have to lie on the grating. She was curled around herself with her thumb loosely hanging from her mouth and a lock of her hair half obscuring closed eyes.

The Doctor wanted to just sit by her side and stare and _stare_ at her in absolute awe. She was so _pretty_.

Unfortunately, the Doctor was a little too busy to just stop and look at that moment. Rose might be completely oblivious to it, but there was an epic war being waged just a little ways across the console room.

"Hey, that's mine! Don't break it!" the Doctor shouted, chasing ineffectively several paces behind the Master as the little brat ran round the console, pulling at bits of wiring and laughing manically. The Doctor was grateful that at least the Master wasn't tall enough to properly reach the actual console controls, even though it meant the Doctor was also in the exact same position.

When the Doctor managed to stop the Master's rampage by tackling him to the ground, finally, they wrestled around like animals fighting over a scrap of meat. The Doctor kicked at the Master's shins with his little plimsolls, distantly noticing that the shoelaces were undone and wondering if he actually remembered how to retie them. The Master, on the other hand, unsurprisingly resorted to dirty tactics, pinching the Doctor hard until he had to leap back with a yelp.

The Master eyed the mallet hanging from the console speculatively, then. The Doctor had the feeling that he would have dearly liked to whack the Doctor over the head with it, if only it wasn't too heavy for him to actually lift it.

The Doctor wouldn't have minded returning the favour, actually.

He would've said that he couldn't believe the Master had landed them in this situation, but it would have been a lie. He knew full well that the Master was capable of just about anything, even if he couldn't remember precisely _why_ he knew that. Still, he was pretty sure it could have been worse. He couldn't remember what the purpose of that button the Master had pressed was, but he was pretty sure it was _bad_. Worse than this.

Of course, whatever the TARDIS had saved them from, he didn't think this was exactly how the ship had intended to do so. She must have had more than her usual screws loose to think that the best way to put herself into 'safe mode' was to change her three occupants into 'harmless' five year olds. As if the Master was safe at _any_ age. It might've been a different matter if they'd been reverted to the way they actually _were _as young children, before little Koschei had ever been forced to look into the Time Vortex, but it was clear that wasn't the case. The Master, after all, hadn't looked like a younger version of his most recent regeneration when he was at the Academy. The Doctor also certainly wouldn't have recognised Rose Tyler or felt such inherent fondness towards her if all of his memories past a certain age were completely eradicated, rather than just uncomfortably compressed. Just the idea of looking at Rose and not knowing her made his little hearts ache.

The Master finally plucked at one thing too many, though the TARDIS retaliated by zapping him much more lightly than the ship usually would have, clearly putting more stock than the Doctor did in the fact that the Master was now a child in body, if not completely in mind. The Doctor could tell that the TARDIS's disciplinary action had barely stung him, but the Master, being the Master, still embarked on a display of ridiculous theatrics that included kicking the TARDIS console repeatedly in a tantrum, and simultaneously gushing out a string of foul curses that the TARDIS pointedly refused to translate (though the Doctor's mental acuteness wasn't so distorted that he couldn't still understand the meaning, and he could hardly believe that even the Master, especially the tiny and deceptively innocent-looking little person the Master was currently masquerading as, was creative and depraved enough to think of doing that with _that_).

The Doctor's memory might have been a little hazy, with his suddenly smaller than usual brain unable to handle it all, but he distinctly recalled having been through just this sort of thing a number of times before. The Master clearly hadn't grown up in the slightest since he actually _had _been five years old.

The Doctor succumbed momentarily to another of the waves of dizziness that kept assaulting him intermittently, his body and mind's way of trying to adjust to the change. He felt as if his brain was about to split apart from the shock of suddenly having to pack such a large amount of knowledge (if he did say so himself) into such a tiny space.

When the dizziness incapacitating the Doctor fully passed, he became aware of a loud, "Ooooowwww!" cried from across the room, this time not coming from the Master.

The Doctor clambered around the console, bringing Rose into view. He saw that the Master was pulling painfully on her ponytail. That couldn't have been a pleasant way to be woken up. The Doctor didn't appreciate that the Master had disturbed her and now was hurting her _at all_.

"Ow! No!" Rose forcefully slapped the Master's hand away from her hair. That looked like it hurt, the Doctor thought happily, though a vague memory of some other time where skin hit skin painfully stopped him from feeling completely smug about Rose's inborn slapping abilities. "Boys don't ever hurt girls," Rose insisted.

Something deep inside the Doctor, slightly beyond his current understanding, told him that he'd reflect on that statement later with a sense of guilt. For now, at least, he'd make sure the Master didn't get the chance to prove Rose's firm assertion wrong.

Reaching her side, the Doctor pulled Rose behind himself, her hand slightly sweaty in his. "Mine," he said challengingly to the Master. The Master wasn't going to be allowed to hurt what was his to protect, he conveyed with a stubborn look, whether that be Rose or the TARDIS.

Rose shook her hand free from his, though, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder at her. "Um, no. I'm _mine_," she corrected, crossing her arms challengingly in front of her.

The Master giggled – honest to Rassilon giggled, and the Doctor was going to try _very _hard to remember that so that he could taunt him about it later, presuming they ever got back to normal – and pointed at Rose.

"You're funny," he said. Rose actually smiled slightly at that hard-won concession.

The Doctor, put out that Rose was apparently choosing the Master over him and unsure what else to do about _that _strange turn of events, sat down on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest and pouted.

He felt a hand patting his head a minute later. He looked up into the big brown eyes of the girl now crouching beside him.

"I still like you," Rose confessed. "Friends?"

The Doctor beamed up at her and revelled in the tingling stroke of her fingers through his wild hair. "_Best _friends," he agreed.

He heard the Master mutter something about them being way too mushy to live, but he didn't really care in that moment.

"Y'know, my mate Shareen says you can have _two_best friends," Rose said. "Everyone's s'posed to learn to share, yeah?" She looked over at the Master, who was pretending not to be paying attention to the two of them.

The Doctor glanced over at the Master as well, horrified that Rose would even suggest that such a thing might be possible. There was _no way_. Rose could insist she was her own person all she liked, but the Doctor still wasn't about to let the Master have any piece of her. And there was no way _he'd _voluntarily be friends with the Master (at least he hoped so, since he couldn't properly remember).

The Master apparently agreed. "Nuh uh. I'll kill you both," he said defiantly. "I'll smother you with your big, stupid pink thing, don't think I won't."

Rose cast a slightly worried look at the cushion in question, but seemed to quickly decide it wasn't much of a threat.

"Silly. I think you just need a hug," Rose said.

The Master spluttered, too indignant to speak, and it was the Doctor's turn to laugh. The Master stormed off to go sit in the corner to play with some five dimensional molecular building blocks that the TARDIS had apparently found to keep him occupied, clearly not wanting to have to deal with the Doctor and Rose any longer.

Rose had managed to shut the Master up _and _make him leave them alone, the Doctor thought with a sense of wonderment.

I love you, he thought at Rose. He had some vague recollection that saying those words might be a bad idea (though he really couldn't remember _why_), so he kept his adoration silent. Still, he figured it couldn't hurt to _show_her how he felt. Silently, of course.

The Doctor leaned over and pecked Rose on the cheek. Rose looked away, suddenly shy, before glancing back at him and smiling.

It figured that the TARDIS, deciding that everything had calmed down and that no one was likely to go about flicking her universal implosion switch just for fun again, would choose that moment to switch back out of 'safe mode'.

The Doctor, suddenly normal-sized, found himself practically sprawled on top of Rose. Becoming aware of their closeness after a split-second, and remembering the way he'd just kissed her as well, he felt himself blush from head to toe and then practically cannon-balled himself across the room to put some space between them.

"Thank god," the Master said. "I think I've changed my mind about you two getting it over with so you'll stop dancing around each other. You're even _more _nauseating when your inhibitions are down."

The Doctor, unsure what to say to that, cleared his throat. "Um, well. So. Where to next?"

"Please," the Master sneered, "for the love of the few tolerable things in this wretched universe, take us somewhere – anywhere – where you can drop me off. I can't stand being stuck here with you two anymore."

The Doctor sensed that the Master wasn't being entirely truthful, which was confusing. Why _wouldn't_ the Master want to get away from them as fast as possible? He'd figured out a while ago that the Master didn't hate Rose as much as he tried to make out he did, and things between the Doctor and the Master had always been... _complicated_, but that didn't mean he actually _liked _being with either of them.

He thought briefly of the suggestion the younger Rose had made that they should all try to get along, and be friends even, but then dismissed it out of hand.

Like that would ever happen.


	4. The Insanity Contagion

Pairings: Ten/Rose (primarily), Ten/Simm!Master, Rose/Simm!Master, implied Ten/Rose/Simm!Master

Warnings: Voyeurism, bondage, sexual content

Author's Notes: This is the third part in my EIDoA-verse, following 'Emotionally Impeded Displays of Admiration' and 'The Not Quite Safe Mode'. It absorbs the 100 word drabble called 'Proper Use' I wrote ages ago, so if something seems really familiar then it might be because you've already read that bit.

* * *

"I thought you would've approved," Rose said as they filed into the TARDIS. The Doctor still had trouble believing she could comfortably turn her back on the Master like that, after everything they'd been through. For the Doctor's part, he was watching the Master so closely that he was literally breathing down his neck (which had earned a brazen comment or twelve from the Master, of course).

"I appreciated how they killed people for their own ends, of course," the Master said. "I literally wrote the book on that, though Rassilon went and stole it for himself before I could publish it. But there were _tiny waving fat babies_." He grimaced. "What's the point of that, other than to make me sick?"

"I thought they were cute," Rose said.

"And you happen to be a lower life form. I rest my case."

Rose turned and looked at the Doctor. "You know, if we'd fed him some of those pills and let him disintegrate into Adipose, maybe Donna would've decided to come with us. Think we could find another way to get rid of him and then go back for her? She'd be a way better travellin' companion."

"I wish," the Master muttered, voicing the Doctor's own thoughts. If only he didn't know that Rose was joking, the Doctor might have been inspired to go back to trying to find ways to safely stow the Master out of sight for good. They'd been letting him run wild for far too long. Just knowing he was always right there, waiting for the Doctor to screw up, was tiring.

Rose excused herself to go off and get some sleep, leaving the Doctor and the Master alone.

The Doctor flicked the TARDIS switches thoughtfully, trying to think where he could next steer them that the Master couldn't get them or the locals into _too_ much trouble.

He glanced away for just a moment, but when he looked back the Master was somehow clear across the room from where he'd last seen him, now mucking about around the other side of the console.

"Would you stop that?" the Doctor snapped. "I'm trying to fly here."

"_Trying_," the Master said dismissively. "Not succeeding, though. I'm surprised you ever got off Gallifrey in the first place. Just how badly _did_ you fail your test?"

"Maybe I could fly better if you weren't messing the console up," the Doctor suggested, trying to hang onto at least the semblance of patience. The Master enjoyed it a little too much when the Doctor let himself get riled up.

"I'm bored," the Master complained. "You never take me anywhere nice anymore."

The Doctor gave in and scowled.

"Anyway, please try to act like you have any logic skills to speak of. It's not like me touching your precious console even does anything now," said the Master. "I can't figure out why you didn't set the controls to isomorphic years and years ago. Then again," the Master looked around with distaste, "what Time Lord in his right mind would have tried to steal _this_ junker out from under you?"

The TARDIS gave a warning judder. The Master sneered upwards at the time rotor in response.

"_You_ tried to steal it," the Doctor reminded him.

"Well, I also chose _you_ to torture out of everyone in the whole of time and space. Desperate times, you know," the Master said dismissively. "I have to settle for what's available."

The Doctor almost went to insist that he was the best captive the Master could ever dream of getting his hands on, but then realised how completely barmy that sounded just in time to stop himself.

Too long in the Master's presence was clearly starting to have an effect. The Doctor was losing it.

"Also," the Master added, "in case you've somehow missed this, I'm insane, so using me as some kind of gauge is probably not the best argument you've come up with. Or, actually, given that it's _you_, maybe it is."

The Doctor glared. Even though he knew it'd have no impact at all on the Master, it made him feel slightly better. Not to mention that the Master would never let him hear the end of it if the Doctor pouted like he really wanted to. Rose laughing at him every time he forgot himself and did that was bad enough; it just made her laugh even harder when he tried to explain that it was just because this body was more _mouthy_ somehow ("You're not kiddin'," she'd said, gasping for breath between bouts of laughter). The Master's reaction would be so much worse.

"You have the whole universe at your disposal," the Master said, sounding almost as though he'd like to pout himself. "Don't you actually want to do something _fun_ with that power for once?"

"We do fun things all the time."

"What," the Master said snidely, "like that time you took us to the planet where all of existence was a giant game of scrabble? Oh yes, believe me, we came this close to someone literally laughing their head off there."

"I saw that ax coming at my neck from a mile away, you know," the Doctor said.

"Well of course it wasn't one of my more subtle plans. I only had an 'a' and an 'x' tile to work with by then. And a 'q', but what was I really going to be able to do with that?"

"So which plans of yours have _ever_ been subtle, then?" the Doctor scoffed.

The Master fumed silently, and for once the Doctor felt like he'd actually scored a verbal win over him. The Doctor definitely preferred his apparent ability to foil the Master's every plan, but it would still be nice if the Master didn't in return have the ability to _always_ make the Doctor look like an idiot whenever he opened his mouth. It would be especially nice if he didn't make such a point to do it in front of Rose.

If only Rose had been there to see the Master speechless. She'd once remarked that that happened even less than the Doctor's silence, though she'd been quick to almost patronisingly assure him that with the Doctor she actually wanted to hear what he had to say, at which the Master had snorted disbelievingly.

He felt a bit idiotic, though, that he actually had the urge to show Rose that he was superior to the Master, as if they were actually in _competition_ or something.

Yeah right. He could have a laugh with Rose over the idea of that later.

* * *

"D'you seriously mean that R.O.U.S.s actually exist?" Rose gaped as the Master regaled her with yet another story from the Doctor's awkward (more so, at least) younger years that made the Doctor hide his face pointedly under the console.

He tried to concentrate on fixing the TARDIS. For once he regretted that Time Lords could split their attention in countless different directions without even trying, for he couldn't block out the Master's words just by busying himself.

He wished, for the seventy-thousandth time since 'adopting' the Master, that he'd managed to find some way to successfully shut the Master up for more than a second at a time once the Master was set on saying something. He'd settle for shoving one of the dirty socks that had gotten lost in some corner of the Wardrobe Room into the Master's mouth right about then if he thought it might have worked any better than all the other failed methods.

He couldn't even properly retaliate. Whenever he tried to tell Rose about one of the many times the Master did something idiotic or embarrassing, the Master took it as a challenge to put some kind of a spin on it that made the Doctor _still_ come off the worse for it.

The Master snickered at Rose. "You've been traipsing through space for years and the thing you're really impressed by is big rats?"

The Doctor didn't need to be able to see her to know Rose was staring balefully at the Master. "Impressed isn't really the word," she said. "They're rodents. Their size is unusually large. In what way is that not the _most horrifyin' thing ever_?"

Through the gaps in the grating, the Doctor could just make out that the Master's expression was sly. He subsequently knew exactly what was coming. "The Doctor didn't think they were so bad. He lived off them for eight weeks before Romana took pity and rescued him from the planet and dropped him back at his TARDIS. What would you say, Doctor? Did they taste like chicken?"

Rose was never going to kiss him again now, the Doctor thought.

Not that he had any plans to try to kiss her or anything.

"Do you think you two could do something more useful than sitting around playing Truth or Dare or whatever's going on up there?" the Doctor asked, exasperated.

There was a long pause. "Oh, sorry," Rose said sarcastically. "We can't all have Time Lord brains and the ability to make chewin' gum into somethin' that can hold the TARDIS together and save people from dyin' of polio all at the same time."

"Well _I_ could do that, actually," the Master boasted. "Much more easily than he could, actually. Not that I would. Polio can be such a fun disease. What's not to love about crippled children?"

The Doctor nearly banged his head against the underside of the console, he sat up so fast. "What? _What_? I get told off for being tired of listening to you gossip about me right in front of me – well, above me, whatever – but he comes out with _that_ and, what, _nothing_?"

"Actually, I'm too disgusted for words to even cover it," Rose admitted.

"Have I surprised you?" the Master sneered.

"No. You've just reminded me that you killed half the human race and enjoyed it," Rose said. "Every now and then I forget. Thanks for that."

Rose, then, apparently did find something better to do than sit around laughing with the Master after all, for she swept out of the room.

"Smooth," the Doctor commented.

The Master loudly kicked something that sounded heavy and important, and the Doctor sighed, extracting himself out from under the console to make sure whatever it was wasn't _too_ badly broken.

"Why does everyone around here assume I'm trying to impress someone?" the Master asked. "I _hate_ you, both of you, and remind you of that every minute of every day. When are you going to figure it out?"

The Doctor sighed. "For me personally, you've said it so many times that it's lost all meaning. As for Rose... when was the last time you tried to make out that you hated her as more than a joke?"

"I threatened to strangle her just yesterday," the Master protested.

"From you that's like asking her on a date," the Doctor said with an eye roll.

The Master looked like he was considering. "I _do_ like the odd bit of breath play now and then," he muttered thoughtfully. "And I bet she'd turn such a lovely colour when –"

"_Anyway_!" the Doctor interrupted loudly. The Master smirked, apparently pleased to have had the effect he wanted on at least _one_ of them.

"You should take us to Christopolis," the Master said. "Seeing a live R.O.U.S. would cheer her up."

"Or make her have nightmares for weeks, more likely," the Doctor corrected.

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to. Hmm, speaking of, we could have chips as well. She likes those."

The Doctor shook his head disbelievingly. The Master really _did_ treat showing how much of a psychopathic jerk he was as if it were part of some strange wooing ritual.

Although... he remembered that _his_ first date (of sorts) with Rose had included chips as well, not to mention blowing up her whole planet.

He wasn't anything like the Master. He _wasn't_.

The Doctor wondered – not for the first time since bringing the Master on board the TARDIS, either – how many times he'd be able to bang his head against the wall before he ended up regenerating.

* * *

"I thought you'd be mad at him for a lot longer," the Doctor said quietly (he knew the Master would still be able to hear him, but at least it gave the illusion of privacy) half a day later when Rose, apparently freshly rested, entered the console room and immediately started bickering almost companionably with the Master, as had become their strange custom.

Rose shrugged. "I dunno. I s'pose it's too much effort to get fired up and stay that way _every_ time he does or says somethin' despicable."

The Doctor couldn't find any way to dispute that. And Rose didn't even _have_ to babysit the Master all the time like he did. The Doctor himself felt like he'd been completely run ragged by having to spend most of every day in the Master's presence, only getting rid of him every now and then when he needed to take a quick nap; even that almost wasn't worth it, given how much more vocally annoying the Master made sure to be every time the Doctor got the TARDIS to fully restrain him (right down to the gag) for a few hours so the Doctor could get some actual uninterrupted rest. The Master himself never seemed to need to sleep. It was the only thing that the Doctor wished he could learn from his mostly-wanted companion.

"Where we goin'?" Rose asked.

"I thought a dungeon might be nice," the Doctor answered, pointedly making his voice loud enough for the Master to hear this time. "We could watch them torture the Master for a while."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" the Master said. "To have the tables turned for once. Oh, the ways I've made you scream..."

The Doctor was about to reply, but Rose beat him to it.

"I dunno about the Doctor, but sometimes _I'd_ certainly like to see someone poke at you with somethin' hot and pointy."

The Master couldn't even get out the innuendo he was apparently dying to say, he was cackling so hard.

"But seriously," Rose said without waiting for him to stop, "we got plans?"

"Not today," the Doctor admitted. "Plans are a bit rubbish, I think. Nothing ever turns out the way I mean for them to. Well, almost nothing. Well, nothing at all when the Master's around, anyway. But if I set the TARDIS to random, there are no expectations. It's hard to be disappointed, don't you think?"

"Unless we end up in _Cardiff_ or somethin'," Rose said. "But with all of time and space to kick around in, what're the odds of that? About twenty to one, for us?"

"More like ten to one, sadly," the Doctor admitted.

"Whatever. We'll just cross our fingers and hope for somewhere else, yeah? I'm up for it, soon as Chuckles over there stops pretty much rollin' around on the floor."

The Master gasped between laughs, but then set himself off again. If there had ever been any doubt that he was crazy, it was certainly gone now. It was just as well he had a respiratory bypass, the Doctor thought. Then he realised that he was actually _glad_ that the Master's life wasn't at risk.

As much as he drove the Doctor perilously close to insanity, the Doctor had to admit that he still wanted the Master to stick around.

Unfortunately, the Master had clearly known that all along.

* * *

The Doctor had always thought that ambush was something that happened if the attacker was lying in wait in one place for the prey to appear. Apparently, though, it could happen from right beside him, from someone he knew all-too-well was there, and yet still be completely without warning.

The Master lunged at him and pressed him against the hallway wall, and the Doctor found himself putting up a sadly minimal amount of resistance. It was the shock of it, he told himself. He'd lied to himself too often to even begin to believe it, though.

The kiss was forceful and as much like a battle as any of their other interactions, just the way it had always been between them. As much as he knew he should hate that the Master was clearly winning, that confident control he exhibited over both their movements was sort of intoxicating. The Master had overpowered him mostly by surprising him. If he wanted to, the Doctor could throw him off.

If he wanted to.

When the Doctor did find himself pushing into the Master's body, it wasn't to get himself free. He knew he would be ashamed of that later, but for now he couldn't quite convince himself that stopping was a good idea.

He supposed it was lucky that a door slamming open just down the corridor made him pull away, startled.

"_Seriously_?" Rose asked loudly. "A cupboard?"

The Doctor was just a moment too late putting distance between himself and the Master. Even if she hadn't seen them practically wound around each other, though, the Doctor's reddened lips and expression of guilt probably would have been enough to provide Rose with the details of what she'd just literally burst in on.

Strangely, instead of looking particularly hurt, as the Doctor had expected (and dreaded), Rose merely glared at the Master before turning on her heel.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say that means she's joining the competition after all."

The Doctor wheeled around to give the Master what must have been the mirror image of Rose's glare. "What?" he snapped.

"Oh, just a little wager I tried to make with your girlfriend a few days back that I'd have you before she did. I believe my exact words were that I'd have you strapped down to the nearest flat surface and begging me for it before you'd ever stop acting like you're perpetually stuck in that disgusting little game I saw children playing when I was on Earth; what was it, 'catch and kiss'? _Humans_. Pathetic."

"As if Rose would ever agree to a bet like that," the Doctor said. He ignored the little voice that helpfully reminded him that Rose _loved_ bets. He didn't hear imaginary voices, after all. _He_ wasn't the crazy one here.

The Master shrugged. "Oh, she got all indignant the way your little humans do, of course. She pretended she wouldn't have any of it, but I knew better. She just needed proper incentive to step up to the challenge."

The Doctor, unsure whether to be annoyed or just plain baffled, glanced back in the direction Rose had retreated.

"Your life is about to finally get a bit interesting," the Master breathed in his ear.

The Doctor shivered and distracted himself by walking over to close the door Rose had flung open and left that way. He stared past it in confusion.

"So what exactly was Rose doing in a storage cupboard?" he asked quietly, speaking more aloud to himself than anything.

"Oh, I locked her in there," the Master said matter-of-factly from behind him.

The Doctor wasn't even sure why he was surprised, though he really had no idea when the Master had got away from him for long enough to do that.

"Don't worry," the Master said smugly. "I didn't have to hurt her. She's no more roughed up than you are."

The Doctor's eyes widened. The Master could clearly see what he was thinking, as his laughter echoed loudly through the hallway.

Surely the Master hadn't...

Well, actually the Doctor wouldn't put anything past him. The point was, surely _Rose_ hadn't done that. Not with the Master.

But _he_ had, hadn't he? Who was to say that Rose hadn't given into an ambush just the same as the Doctor had?

The Doctor pushed the thought away. He grabbed the Master's sleeve to drag him the rest of the way back to the console room. Not for the first time, he wished he could have just two minutes alone to actually think. His brain was beyond exhausted.

Why else would he have let the Master kiss him?

* * *

The Doctor found that he couldn't even look at Rose lately without thinking of that stupid bet. He couldn't quite bring himself to ask her if she was _actually_ taking the Master up on it, and if so what she intended to do about it. Surely if she was really in on it, she'd be trying harder to seduce him, or something.

Of course, she might be doing just that in some wily female way that the Doctor didn't quite understand. After all, almost constantly whenever she was in the same room as him (to the point that Rose must have thought there was something really wrong with him), he kept running his eyes all over her body and wondering...

They'd kissed before, of course, but to do anything more than that would be so very different. They couldn't just pretend _that_ had never happened afterwards. That was hard enough with the kissing. Things would change.

Did she want that?

Did he?

These were questions he'd been asking himself for ages now, but the Master's knowing smiles whenever he caught the Doctor staring at Rose somehow escalated it until it was pretty much the only thing he could think of anymore.

"Why did you tell me about the bet?" the Doctor asked one day when Rose had gone off to get some sleep, the way humans had to do so annoyingly often.

"Why didn't you ask me that a week ago instead of angsting over it all this time?" the Master shot back.

"I'm serious," the Doctor said.

"So am I."

The Doctor sighed and waited. Neither of them were very good at being patient, but the Doctor was still confident he could win at that game fairly easily with the Master's short attention span. The Master would get bored and reveal his 'cunning' scheme, just as he always eventually did.

It didn't take long at all this time.

"I _wanted_ you to worry endlessly about it," the Master admitted. "Obviously. The idea of you casting little sidelong glances at her and torturing yourself is entertaining. You know me. A cure for boredom is all I want in the universe. Well, and a little domination. But you know that as well, don't you?" the Master said with a wink.

"Oh, shut up," the Doctor grumbled.

"You hate that, don't you? That I know all your dark little secrets. Do you think Rose knows those things about you? I could lock us all in a room and show her. She'd probably like it."

Whatever lurid little fantasies the Master had taken to whispering to the Doctor just a little too quietly for Rose to hear (except when he intended to rub it in her face as well) ever since the Doctor had accused the Master of really _liking_ Rose, the Doctor knew that Rose wouldn't have any of it. She wasn't interested in the Master. She loved _him_.

And that was the thing that the Doctor kept coming back to. Rose had made it clear enough how she felt about it. He'd known for ages. And he was certain she had to know what he felt in return. Would acting on it really change things when they both knew it anyway?

Absolutely, the Doctor acknowledged with a sigh. It would be like crossing a chasm without the TARDIS and then watching the bridge immediately fall apart after them. They'd be stranded in that new land of things that he couldn't even _think_ about without wanting them badly enough to nearly go wake up Rose and get them started on that path immediately. Once he tasted that, he knew he'd always want more. As good as that sounded, the more logical part of his brain knew that things could go so wrong.

The Doctor thought that he could live without ever sharing those things with Rose Tyler. He wasn't so sure how well he'd survive if he messed it up once he _had_ (as he knew he was bound to) and she decided to leave him. Alone in the TARDIS. With the Master.

That was the image that he kept reminding himself of, like the ultimate repellent. That was the idea that stayed his hand every time he almost gave in.

He tried to tell himself that it was for the best.

* * *

The moment they stumbled back into the safety of the TARDIS, Rose whirled on the Master and slapped him hard enough that the Doctor flinched away sympathetically just from the sound of it.

"_Ow_," the Master protested.

"You nearly got him killed!" Rose shouted.

"It's not exactly the first time," the Master pointed out.

"It's the first time he's ever got so _close_, 'cept the regeneration. But there would've been no regeneratin' from _that_, and you know it."

The Master shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, I saved his life, didn't I? What more do you want?"

Rose took a deep breath to calm herself, the way the Doctor himself often had to do with the Master around. Then she nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess you did. Thank you." Rose leaned in and kissed the Master lightly on the same cheek she'd just slapped. "The savin' part you can feel free to do again. The tryin' to get him killed has to stop, though. You don't try to kill _me_ anymore."

"That you know of," the Master interjected quickly, trying to save face.

Rose didn't seem to buy it. "Sure. You don't actually want him dead any more than you do with me. You proved that much today. So you can just stop pretendin'."

Rose carefully led the Doctor out of the console room towards the infirmary before the Master got over his speechlessness for long enough to retort.

"What was that?" the Doctor asked as Rose pushed him onto the infirmary cot and started tending to his burns.

"What?" Rose asked.

"That kiss," the Doctor said. "You kissed the Master. I saw it. Right in front of me. What, was that some kind of payback for him kissing me in the hallway that time? Because that was all him. Well, mostly. He started it. Maybe I should shut up, now. The pain's making me stupid."

Rose glared at him. "I don't think that's the pain. You know, I never thought I'd say these words, but the Master's right. You do think the world revolves around you just as much as he does. At least he's honest about it."

"He's crazy!" the Doctor said.

"Exactly. Which is why negative and positive reinforcement are the best ways to deal with him, yeah? 'Cause his craziness means he doesn't understand normal human – or alien – interactions. What's _your_ excuse?"

"How was that _normal_? Your lips being anywhere near the Master is so far from normal that..." He made an inarticulate noise of annoyance. "Anyway, I don't need an excuse!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I'm not the one who was kissing the megalomaniac!"

"Not today, maybe," Rose said.

"I didn't initiate that! He jumped me. _You_ were the one who jumped _him_, though! Kissed him. _Him_."

"What, are you jealous or somethin'?" Rose asked. "Seriously?"

"Of course I am!" the Doctor shouted before he could stop himself.

They both lapsed into silence, regarding each other. Then the Doctor leaned up, ignoring the way the burned skin on his back pulled painfully, and kissed her.

He couldn't ignore the pain for long, unfortunately. His exploration of Rose's soft lips ended much sooner than he would have liked when the pain made him practically swoon back flat onto the hard cot. The jolt of that impact only made the pain worse again.

She carded a hand gently through his hair while he got his bearings about him again.

"Say it," she demanded when she decided he'd recovered enough.

"What?" the Doctor asked. He blinked, and Rose slowly came back into focus.

"The last time we were kissin' in here, everythin' just went back to normal afterwards, like nothin' had even happened. I can't do that again. I need to know it means somethin' to you, that you can admit it happened. And if I give you time to over think it, you'll never admit it. So I want you to just say it. Now"

Ah, the Doctor thought. _That_.

But there was no going back from that either, any more than there was from sex. It was why he'd never said it, even though she had to know already. Having it out there in the open was a whole different thing.

But he looked at her, and saw how deadly serious she looked, and realised that if he didn't finally stop pushing her away and denying what exactly their relationship was, she might not just silently bear the hurt anymore.

Things might change regardless. She might just give up on him.

She couldn't do that. Not when he...

He swallowed, and he stumbled slightly over the words, but he managed to get them out in the end.

"I love you."

Rose's bright smile made it seem like it was all worthwhile. Just the sight of it also made him feel slightly better overall, which was lucky, since he was still in quite a lot of pain.

Rose didn't say anything after that, and apparently didn't expect him to say anything more either. She went back to applying the salve to his burns, and thankfully ignored the way he flushed bright red when she carefully removed both his jacket and his shirt so that she could roll him over and tend to the skin low on his back.

"You got anythin' for the pain that's Time Lord friendly?" she eventually asked as she rolled him back over to face her.

"Yeah, but it'd knock me out," the Doctor said. "I can't leave you alone to deal with the Master."

Rose put her hands on her hips. "If you're worried he'll try and kill me, it's like I said earlier; he hasn't done that in ages, so don't worry. If you think I'm gonna go out there and start snoggin' him or somethin' while you're all laid up and in pain in here, and after _that_, then you're an idiot. And I know how you hate lookin' like an idiot. So show me the medicine already."

The Doctor pointed, and Rose watched like a hawk as the Doctor reluctantly gulped the pain relievers down like shots, followed by the glass of water Rose had provided for him.

"A bit of sleep'll do you good, anyways," Rose said. "Don't think I haven't noticed how close to snappin' you've been lately, never gettin' a break from the Master. You need some proper rest."

The Doctor couldn't really argue against that with any success. He might have tried regardless if the drugs weren't already kicking in and affecting his mental acuity, but as it was, he had little choice.

"I'll come back in to check on you later," Rose said. "And don't worry. I'll make sure the Master doesn't mess up the whole TARDIS while you're out." Then she disappeared out the infirmary door with a small wave and an affectionate smile.

The Doctor was half-unconscious from the drugs by the time he heard Rose's voice echoing down the hall, saying, "You should be glad I never took you up on that bet," which was followed by a string of suggestive comments from the Master. The Doctor sighed and decided that sleeping might not be such a bad idea after all if it would mean that he didn't have to face either of them just then.

* * *

Rose told him a day later, when she was sprawled satedly over his naked chest and lower body, that she'd never before been so happy that he'd been right about Time Lords having superior _anything_.

The Doctor's healing power, whatever the Master might have said about him being defective because there was still a slight trace of a burn under the Doctor's left eye, was pretty much unprecedented, and Rose had made sure to take full advantage.

Any well-rested feelings he'd had from getting much more sleep after his injury than he usually would were well and truly used up, and he didn't mind a bit. He sighed, content.

"I love you too, you know," Rose said. "Just in case you missed me screamin' it at you before. You looked a little far gone."

"It's a big part of why I was 'far gone', actually," the Doctor admitted. "But it's still nice to hear it again. In fact, maybe I was a little hard of hearing after all. What did you say just now?"

Rose poked her tongue out at him and kissed his chest, though she refused to play into his hands by saying it again.

"What would the Master have won?" the Doctor asked suddenly, as it finally fully occurred to him what they'd just done, beyond just blowing out the pleasure centre of his brain. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, but he'd never been able to help his curiosity. "You know, with the bet. If we hadn't done this."

"I'd have sex with both of you. You know, at once. Together."

The Doctor gaped, forming noiseless words with his mouth for a long while before he got something of a grip on himself. The Doctor had been right. He _hadn't_ wanted to know that. He was stunned that the Master had asked for that above the multitudes of other things that Rose had the power to give him if he won.

"That you'd _what_?" he eventually managed to ask, sort of hoping he'd misheard. Maybe Rose had affected more of his brain than just the pleasure-processing part.

Rose waved a hand nonchalantly to hush him. "Calm down. I was never gonna go along with his stupid bet. I think he was just goin' on about it to get a rise out of you, more than anythin' else. You make it so easy for him sometimes."

To get his mind off the idea of the three of them together (only because it was _disturbing_, he told himself firmly, not because it was oddly fascinating), he asked Rose, "So what would _you_ have won, if you'd decided to take him up on it?"

Rose laughed teasingly. "Never you mind."

The Doctor blinked. "What? You're not even going to tell me?"

"Nope," she said. "That'd spoil it."

The Doctor should be running for his life at the anticipatory smile she was giving him, but he had to admit he really had next to no sense of self-preservation. Besides, he was kind of tied up at that particular moment.

Anyway, he'd run away from her long enough. The Master had been right all along (even _thinking_ those words hurt a little, but he couldn't really deny it). Things between the Doctor and Rose couldn't have stayed that way indefinitely. They'd have gone as mad as the Master himself.

This particular change at least seemed like a much better option than many of the alternatives.

"I'm gonna go grab us some breakfast," Rose announced. "Or dinner, I guess; have I ever told you livin' in the TARDIS, with all the time bein' relative and stuff, is confusin'? Or, I know, we'll just go straight to dessert. That's always my favourite bit anyways."

"What, you're leaving _now_?" the Doctor asked, shaking one bound wrist to remind her of his current predicament. Surely she wasn't going to leave him vulnerable like this while she went off and found herself something to nibble on (as if he wouldn't happily volunteer for that task if only she asked).

She smiled wickedly, and the Doctor realised that of course she planned to do exactly that.

"How d'you feel about strawberries and cream?" Rose asked.

"I'd rather have a banana," the Doctor muttered mutinously.

"What about if I use the cream right... here..."

A hand trailed over the region in question, and suddenly the Doctor didn't mind waiting there in bed for her so much.

"Cream," he said, sounding suddenly far more enthusiastic. "Genius. There should be more of it. Maybe some chocolate sauce too, don't you think?"

"I'll even bring a banana as well," Rose promised. "Like a proper sundae."

Why hadn't he told Rose he loved her years ago, again?

After she disappeared out of the room, the Doctor immersed himself so deeply into a daydream about Rose and bananas that the sound of a throat being cleared was something of a shock.

The Doctor never imagined a time when he wouldn't be deathly mortified at the mere _idea_ (let alone the reality) of the Master witnessing him handcuffed naked to a bed.

"So she finally put those things to proper use, did she?" the Master smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

The taunting didn't bother him all that much, for once. Nor could he bring himself to care that he'd have to rebuild practically the whole TARDIS after leaving the Master unsupervised for over two (magnificent) hours.

It all paled slightly compared to the fact that Rose would be back soon.

"Finally, over the last few hours, I've found something that's not boring," the Master announced.

The Doctor frowned, suspicious. "What do you mean? What have you been doing out there?"

The Master looked incredulous that he was even asking. "You've never been all that sharp, but were you really always _this_ slow on the uptake?" the Master asked. "Maybe old age is getting to you. Or more likely you've been hanging about with dull-witted humans too long, since I'm as old as you are and my brain is more than fine. Apart from the psychopathy, obviously."

"Rose is the only human I've been travelling with lately, and don't even try to tell me you think she's stupid. You like her."

"Mmm," the Master said noncommittally. "She _is_ certainly amusing. And the way she looked with her hips swinging in that short, tight little number she wore out into Fraxia when you took –"

"All right!" the Doctor practically squeaked. "Get back to the point. What trouble have you been getting up to on your own?"

The Master looked disturbingly triumphant. "I've been sitting quietly in a corner like a good little boy, actually. Just listening to the sounds of your TARDIS. Or, should I say, the sounds _in_ your TARDIS. Thin walls in this room. Did I ever tell you that you whimper like a girl when you particularly like something? Going by what I heard, your little human must have been _very_ good."

Oh. Well, the Master was right. That was fairly obvious, at least in retrospect. It certainly hadn't occurred to him at the time.

The Doctor thought that if he'd had any concept that the Master might be sitting in hearing's distance, silently mocking his sexual prowess (presuming he was right in thinking he actually _had_ any in this body), he might have been far too mortified to completely enjoy himself. It was one thing for the Master to look at him this way afterwards, his eyes lingering over the Doctor's groin and looking appreciatively at the reddening around his wrists where he'd writhed against the handcuffs. That was _after_, and he was the Master, and the Doctor would actually expect nothing less. But this...

He might as well have been in the room with them the whole time, really.

The Doctor pointedly didn't voice that thought out loud. The Master already had enough of those thoughts on his own without the Doctor putting even more of them into his twisted mind.

"Of course, I make no promises about what I'll do the _next_ time you two sneak off to make each other pant and squeal and there's no one to keep an eye on me," the Master continued. "I guess you'll have to invite me along if you don't want to have to put your whole ship back together every time you get that urge and can't help yourself."

The Master took one last look at the Doctor's naked body, especially the traitorous part that was starting to recover at his words combined with his regard, and turned on his heel.

"I can't say I'll complain as much about being stuck with the two of you on this ship anymore," he called back from down the hallway as he disappeared. "It's going to be such fun."

The Doctor was half-tempted to drag himself further up the bed just so he could bang his head repeatedly against the wooden headboard.

He wondered what he was going to tell Rose about this when she got back from making breakfast, dinner, whatever. He had the sinking feeling that she wasn't going to be much help. She'd probably be too busy laughing.

He'd known, from the moment that he even _considered_ putting himself, the Master and Rose all together on the one bigger-on-the-inside-but-nowhere-near-big-enough TARDIS, that things were bound to get interesting. He just hadn't predicted _this_, exactly.

The Doctor had to admit that he'd always sought more than his fair share of excitement. He supposed he couldn't really complain about having that wish so thoroughly fulfilled. It was his own fault. He'd asked for it.

He wondered whether that made him just as crazy as the Master after all.

* * *

Author's Notes: This part will probably be the ending of this series, chronologically speaking. However, I've enjoyed playing in this sandbox, so I'd like to write another part or two set somewhere between the first part and this one. We'll see.


End file.
